My lad, brimming full of teenage optimism, went sea fishing for the first time this summer. Braving the English Channel he quickly boated a fighting smooth-hound.

His smile, as he took the congratulations, beamed brighter than any Trinity House lightship. Now he thinks fishing will always be like that.

Ah, the naivety of youth. I know it only too well.

At his age I was stepping up to the Popside. I’d done my time in the Boys’ End, put away my childish black and white rattle, and was brimming with that same adolescent optimism as I watched Mr Clough’s remarkable players take the field.

And what players they were; Green, Robson, Webster, Roy Mac and Dave Mackay, then Durban, McGovern and Carlin behind Hinton, O’Hare and the God-like Kevin Hector up front.

Just like my lad and fishing, I thought it would always be like that. Derby’s football was a thing of infinite beauty and it was surely going to last forever.

Then, as the decades of disappointment unfolded, came the bitter realisation that we weren’t destined to be the glorious future of football after all.

But now, what’s this I’m seeing? The great man’s lad is himself bringing back that feeling of footballing optimism to our club. Even disillusioned old curmudgeons like me are feeling it.